


Thankful Harvest

by Aida



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Food, I think they'd do that, I'm American so that's why I did this, It's a Hobbit version of Thanksgiving?, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Of a sorts, Probably not though, Somewhat, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's in charge of hosting the annual feast, and Dwalin isn't helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thankful Harvest

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what inspired me to write a Dwilbo Thanksgiving-ish fic, but I wrote it, anyway. In the end, it's not so much about the actual holiday as it is about Bilbo and Dwalin being a fluffy ridiculous married couple.

“Don’t you dare!”

Dwalin froze on the spot, turning away from the source of delicious smells to look at his husband. His husband, his dear little hobbit, who was glaring at him and brandishing a ladle like he did with his letter opener some time ago. 

“If you lay a single finger on that bird, you’re going to be roasted next!” Bilbo continued, jabbing the makeshift weapon in the dwarf’s direction.

Said dwarf stepped back, hands raised in surrender, even though he was trying hard not to laugh. “I wasn’t going to eat it!” He defended as Bilbo moved towards said roast, eyes still fixed on his supposed enemy. “I was just going to check on it.”

“You mean like last time? Which is why our bird is missing a wing?” Bilbo remarked, scoffing. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now, scoot! I need to baste it!”

Dwalin let out a sigh, stepping back further as Bilbo pulled the bird out a little and began to ladle the drippings over it. “It just doesn’t seem fair.” He said, and Bilbo snorted. “Well, here you are, making all this food and I can’t have a single bite!”

“We’re waiting for my relatives-.”

“-Relatives that you hate more than a dragon, mind.”

“-And I don’t want them to arrive to a Harvest feast that has been half-eaten!” Bilbo continued. “Believe you me, I can hardly stand a single one of them, and I had to find new hiding places for my valuables because of this, but it’s tradition. Unfortunately. And it’s my turn to host it. My turn to have relatives snoop through my smial. My turn to deal with screaming children that bring nothing but dirt and bugs inside, and I don’t know how.”

“I could’ve sworn you said that you thought it was your cousin Primula’s turn.” Dwalin muttered and Bilbo sighed.

“I wish.” He breathed. “But I have a feeling that this is their twisted way of punishing me for running off on an adventure and coming back alive with enough treasure to repurchase my home and a husband that makes sure that I don’t have to.”

Dwalin sniffed, straightening a little. “At least they like me.”

Bilbo snorted. “No offense, love, but it’s just the children that adore you.” He confessed. “The grownups either hate you or are terrified of you.”

He slid the bird back into the hearth to continue roasting, humming a little in thought. “Perhaps it’s a blessing, then.” He remarked. “Perhaps they’ll be so frightened that they’ll be persuaded to not pinch any of my silver…”

“So that’s why you married me, then?” Dwalin remarked, crowding into Bilbo’s space. “To scare of your relatives?”

Bilbo laughed, smacking Dwalin in the chest with the ladle before setting it down. “Oh, no, dear. That’s just one reason.” He remarked. “Your strength and flexibility are the others.”

Dwalin laughed this time, full and hearty, even as Bilbo chuckled and went to the stove, checking on the rest of their dinner. Once Dwalin calmed, he watched Bilbo as he flitted here and there to make sure each component wasn’t burning or going too slow. He had a flush from the heat, a little sweat on his brow, and he was bending over so much that his delightful backside was just begging to be touched.

So touch he did, elicting a sharp, high-pitched squeal from Bilbo as he leapt back, right into Dwalin’s embrace.

He huffed, even as he tilted his head to the side to make way for Dwalin to nose at his neck. “Now what do you think you’re doing?”

“Showing my husband how much I love him.” Dwalin explained, voice deep, and he felt Bilbo shiver as he kissed his ear. “And I plan to continue to do so.”

“Dwalin, I can’t-!”

“Your family won’t arrive for some time yet, and your food won’t turn into toast if you look away from it for a few moments.” He argued, reaching around for a grope and getting a jumping hobbit as a reward. “And I can see that you’re quite amiable.”

“But I-.”

“Trust me.” He cut in with a sharp nip at Bilbo’s neck, eliciting a shiver. “We’ve done much more to each other in a shorter amount of time, if you recall.”

From the blush on his cheeks, Dwalin could tell that Bilbo certainly did recall. And from the way his fingers twitched, he was starting to seriously consider it.

“I could’ve had you stripped and ready beneath me by now.”

Bilbo huffed then, making quick work of untying his apron and tossing it haphazardly into a corner. “Alright, you convinced me.” He said, pushing a grinning Dwalin towards the bedroom. “But if anyone shows up early to help, it’s on your head!”

**Author's Note:**

> Lobelia shows up early, and promptly regrets it. She goes home and doesn't show up for the feast, having "fallen ill". :P
> 
> Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to you guys! If you don't celebrate or just don't care, Happy Thursday regardless!


End file.
